Operation: FANFICTION
by J silence Quill
Summary: (Chapter Five-Operation: SWEAR) Number Three purchases a suspicious Rainbow Monkey doll with 'questionable' sayings. Does it hold the secret to a new adult code, or is it just...well, questionable? (Your votes are in!)
1. FANFICTION

**Disclaimer:** Do we really need this? Of course KND isn't mine.

**A/N:** I'm new to KND fanfiction so please leave me some advice!

* * *

Operation: FANFICTION

**F**aithful

**A**nd

**N**umbered

**F**riends

**I**nscribe

**C**ountless

**T**ales

**I**nto

**O**ld

**N**otebook

"A story? Why on earth would anyone want to waste their time writing a lousy story?"

Number Five shrugged and adjusted the straps on her backpack as they left the classroom. "How should I know? Teachers just like that kind of stuff."

"Yeah? Well, I think it's stupid. I can think of a buhmillion of things I'd rather be doing than writing some lame story," Number Four grumbled as he kicked at the tiled hallway floor.

Five raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you can—I bet you're just saying that because you know that you can't spell for beans," she said with a grin as they exited the school.

Four mumbled something that sounded distinctively along the lines of 'I don't even like beans', but Number Five ignored him as she stepped onto the bus and found a seat near the back window. Stories weren't her area of expertise, but she wasn't about to let this assignment lower her grade. This semester had been suspiciously easy and now wasn't the time to let her guard down. She took out a notebook from her bag and started to jot down ideas for her story.

Number four leaned over the back of the seat in front of Five and tried to catch a look at her notes. "You can't be starting that stupid assignment already! We have all weekend. Doing homework on Friday is about as low as you can get," he interrupted.

Number Five nodded absentmindedly and continued to write. "Why don't you get started on it if you hate it so much? Then you won't have any work to do over the weekend if you get it out of the way now." She asked from under the brim of her hat.

After a momentary pause Number Four shrugged and disappeared back over the other side of the seat. Five smiled to herself and scanned over her notes.

"You can't be serious! Fridays are always busy!"

Number One sighed and turned to face Five. "I'd expect you to be grateful; it's not often we get a break from our missions. This week's been slower than usual so take the opportunity to get some rest."

Five crossed her arms. "You expect me to buy that lame excuse? You, of all people, should be the most upset."

"I am," he replied. "But there's nothing I can do about it so we might as well take it easy for once. Why are you so concerned anyways?"

"I'm not," she frowned exasperatedly and gathered up her bag. "It's just that we're supposed to write a story for English class so I thought that a mission might give me some ideas," she sighed. "Well, in that case, I've got all weekend so I'm going to pick up some stuff at the candy store. Anything you want me to get?"

Number One dug around in his pockets and came up with a crumpled sheet of paper. "Just a few essentials. We've been running low on gum so you should add that to the list."

Five took the list and tipped her hat. "Okay then, I'll be seeing you around," she nodded as she left the room.

One put his hands in his pockets and turned to his room but paused as something caught his eye. "Number Five! You forgot your notebook," he called, but it was too late—she had already left. He picked up the red notebook and flipped through the pages until he came to a paper clipped section in blue ink. "This must be the story she was writing," he mused to himself as he scanned her writing.

"A Penny Saved is a Penny Stolen"

"Once there was this girl named Jane who worked for a super top-secret spy agency. She was one of the best spies in the company and was working on a really tough case. Jane was working undercover as a teller at her local bank when she discovered that the money people were depositing was disappearing. Jane didn't really care about the money, but she didn't like to see the innocent people losing what belonged to them so she decided to find out who was behind the crime."

Number One paused and turned a couple of pages only to find nothing. "That's it? She's probably still working on it." He began to place the notebook back on the table when an idea hit him. "Number Five did mention that she was having difficulty writing her story...it wouldn't hurt to help out a little bit. After all, every good story deserves an evil criminal mastermind, and she obviously hasn't introduced that character yet..."

"Hey, Number One! Can you come here a second? I need someone to help me hold this in place," Number Two called from underneath the wooden frame of his latest aerial flyer in his room. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and held his blueprints up to the light.

One poked his head over the threshold and adjusted his glasses. "Did you call me?"

"Yeah," Number Two replied, muffled underneath the stacks of blueprints and designs. "Can you hold this piece of particleboard for a second while I grab some spare screws? I need to refill my stock in the tool box."

Number One nodded and put the notebook down on the bookcase shelf next to the doorway. "Sure, I'll be right there," he replied and walked up to the skeletal beginnings of the newest flier. "This one's pretty small compared to the earlier models," he observed.

"Ah, I dunno. It's definitely smaller, but I'm aiming for more engine power this time. And anyways, the smaller ones are easier to maneuver, especially in bad weather." Two replied as he poured a handful of screws into his toolbox. Number One handed him the beam of particleboard he was holding up. "Thanks for your help; I'll call you if I need anything else," Two waved as Number One left the room. As he closed the door, the notebook on the bookcase shelf fell onto the floor.

"Huh? What's that?" Two stopped and let go of the particleboard, dropping it onto his head with a loud thud. He rubbed the bruise and walked over to the bookcase and picked the notebook up off the floor. "A notebook? Number One must've left it behind." Two flipped through the pages until he came upon Five's story and stopped to read it.

"Little did Jane know, but the director of the bank was none other than the devious criminal mastermind, Mr. Moneybags. Known for his notorious embezzling habits in the past, Mr. Moneybags was up to his dirty tricks once again with his new scheme. Jane decided that it was her duty as a top-rate spy to stop the criminal once and for all before all the customers at the bank lost all their money. But just what was this heinous villain doing with all the money? That was what left Jane puzzled."

Number Two cocked his head to the side. "Is that the end? It was just getting good too. Well, it couldn't hurt to take a break for a bit..."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Number Three, can you please stop pestering me? Can't you see I'm writing here?" Two snapped as he reclined on the large red couch in the tree house recreation room and began to erase over a word."

Three pause for a minute and leaned over his shoulder. "But you said you were doing nothing!"

"Well, I guess I'm really not. To tell you the truth, I'm working on a story and I've got writer's block," Number Two sighed and bit the end of the eraser.

"Hey! Why don't you let me try! I'll help you write! Is it a fairytale?" she exclaimed as she waved her sleeves in the air.

"Not exactly, but if you want to help then by all means, go ahead. I've got to get back to work anyways," Two replied and handed her the red notebook. "Good luck with it," he called as he walked back to his room.

Number Three hoped over onto the sofa and skimmed through the pages and stopped at the paper clipped segment and began to read.

"Later that evening Jane returned to the bank to do some investigating. Using her infrared laser pen, she melted the inner mechanisms of the lock on the back door at the back and deactivated the security cameras. Just as she thought she was safe, she tripped through a hidden door on the floor and fell into a vault. It looked like this bank didn't have very safe safes, eh? She turned around when she heard a noise behind her and found herself face-to-face with a giant robot made of money vaults. She turned to run but was stuck. It looked as though Mr. Moneybags was feeding all of the customer's money to the robot and melting it down into liquid goo; most of which was covering the floor she was standing on, which explained why she couldn't move. Jane decided she was stuck in a very sticky situation."

Number Three made a disgusted face. "Ew...that's kind of gross. No wonder Number Two was having so much trouble with this story! There aren't any Rainbow Monkeys in it. What on earth was he thinking?" She tisked disapprovingly and began to rapidly scribble onto the notebook with her pink pen.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?" Number Four asked as he walked into the recreation room.

Number Three abruptly stopped writing and pointed a floppy shirt-covered finger at Number Four. "Ah-hah! I won't make the same mistake Number Two did! I'm doing something, not nothing!" she declared with a hint of secrecy.

Number Four blinked. "Uh...yeah, well, you're obviously doing something. I just wanted to know what."

"I'm writing a story," she replied and folded up the notebook. "Hey, want to play a racing game?" Three asked as she hopped off the couch to search for the console controllers.

"Sure...hey, wait a sec—you had to write a story for school too?" Four asked and grabbed the notebook off the couch. "I just finished mine. Imagine getting homework on a Friday, of all the stupid things," he stated as he scanned through the pages and started to read the story.

"Jane felt sorry for the big bad robot thingy. But it was bad and as a super-duper secret spy it was her job to do something about it. She took out a pretty shiny whistle from her pocket and blew on it, summoning her Rainbow Monkey superhero squad to help her out. The giant robot didn't stand a chance against her Rainbow Monkeys and exploded, sending out tons of cash and stuff into the air like rain. Just then the evil Mr. Moneybags stormed into the vault. Jane tried to attack him, but she and her Rainbow Monkey squad were stuck to the sticky floor. Mr. Moneybags revealed his evil plan—he was going to melt all the money in the world and put it in a volcano so that when the volcano erupted the world would be covered in the melted money."

"You call this a story?! How on earth do you expect a bunch of lousy Rainbow Monkeys to defeat a criminal? They're just stupid dolls," Number Four exclaimed after reading her addition to the story. "Though the volcano was a nice touch," he added after a moment.

Number Three popped her head out from other the couch holding the console controller. "They're not stupid; it's her Rainbow Monkey superhero squad. Of course they'll defeat the villain."

"What are they going to do—hug him to death?" Number Four scoffed as he began to scribble onto the notebook.

Three paused. "You know, I never thought about that. I guess that would work," she replied as she started to hook up to game console.

"Oh yeah, who's got the goods? I do," Number Five grinned as she dumped the candy bag onto the desktop. "I even picked up that gum you asked for, Number One," she added.

"Good work," One replied as he fingered the receipt. It looks like it was on sale too."

"Yeah, I think it was," Five answered as she scanned the empty recreation room. "Hey have you seen my notebook? I've gotta work on that homework before I turn in for the night."

"Eh..." Number One began and frantically raked his memory as he tried to remember where he misplaced it.

"Hey, never mind, I found it," Five called as she picked up the red notebook off the couch.

One sighed in relief. "Well, I'll leave you to do your homework." He replied and scooped up the candy bag as he left the room.

Five waved and jumped onto the couch. She picked up her pencil, preparing to work on her story when she paused, staring at the eraser. "Aw, man. Who's been chewing on my pencil?" She frowned and flipped open her notebook, only to find several paragraphs under the one she previously started.

"What the heck?" She stared at the random jumbles of letters and sentences making up the last paragraph in disbelief, many of which were haphazardly circled in pink with various spelling indications off to the side in different handwriting. "Looks like someone..." she shook her head at the notebook, "or something wrote my story for me." Number Five shrugged and took out a pen from her pocket. "Ah well, I've got nothing to complain about. It's not everyday my homework does itself for me," she said as she added 'The End' underneath the last paragraph. Some things are better left unsaid.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh come on now. Surely you must have played 'Telephone' at least ONCE while growing up. Anyways, I used to love writing collaborative stories with my friends when I was younger, but we always seemed to mess up the endings. Ah, well. 


	2. MARYSUE

**Disclaimer**: Oh, yes. I own KND along with three Mercedes Benz and the state of Hawaii. Raise your hand if you detect sarcasm...

**A/N:** A lot of reviews mentioned the similarity between the last chapter and Operation: REPORT. Sorry, the embarrassing part is that I've never even seen that episode. As far as this chapter's concerned, it's a completely new story but I'm not too proud of it. Please leave me advice!

* * *

Operation: MARYSUE

**M**agically

**A**ppearing

**R**ecruit's

**Y**outhfulness

**S**eems

**U**nmistakably

**E**rsatz

The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The world was at peace and Lizzie was on vacation, which might have something to do with the abrupt halt in the normal chaos. But for the moment it seemed as though nothing could break the tranquility.

Exactly the way she liked it.

The perfect setting was essential if she was to stage a sensational entrance and she knew that the time was ripe for the picking, so to speak. It was only a matter of time before she had managed to successfully infiltrate the headquarters. However, it was crucial that she had the right hairstyle, thus ending the brief character insight.

"Checklist?"

"Check."

"Identification templates?"

"Check."

"Beginner's Manual?"

"Check."

"Two-by-Four Technology for Dummies?"

"Uh...hold on a sec," Number Two answered as he picked a book off the shelf and plucked out a tattered bookmark. He handed it to Number One in a salute. "Check."

"Okay, fellow Kids Next Door. It's that time of the year again and I'm sure you're all well-informed and prepared for today's mission," One began as he settled into his too-familiar speech posture.

"Ooh! Ooh! It's Christmas already?" Three cried out as she waved her arms in the air.

"Not that time of the year; we got a message from Moon Base HQ saying that today we're supposed to be training a group of new recruits assigned to sectors in our area," Number Five replied. "But why not just train them at their own sectors?" she asked as an afterthought. "Wouldn't that make more sense?"

"Negatory, Number Five. The majority of the other sectors are upgrading their own technology right now, so it would be more beneficial to the new recruits if we train them here on our upgraded system. That way they'll have some hands-on experience with the upgraded material when they return to their own sectors."

"Oh...uh, sure. You're the boss," Number Five answered hesitantly as she scratched her head. Kudos to anyone who understood a word he said.

Number Three dropped into a crestfallen slump. "So it's NOT Christmas?"

"Of course not! Don't be stupid. Why not just check the calendar?" Four retorted.

Three pause. "Hmm...okay!" She replied as she skipped out of the room. However, only moments later she skipped back into the room accompanied by a short girl with brown hair pulled up into two pigtail-braids on the side of her head. She was wearing a long pink and yellow striped t-shirt and a pair of white sneakers. Of course, being a Mary Sue, her shirt was perfectly ironed; her teeth were sparkling white, her hair neatly groomed, and her shoes meticulously polished. To be blunt, she looked completely out of place in an odd, unearthly sort of manner.

"Uh.... Number Three, I don't think that's a calendar," began Two but was cut off by Number One.

"Ah, I take it this is one of our new recruits?" He asked as he leaned over for a closer look and peered down at his clipboard.

"Yes, sir," she answered promptly.

Number Five glanced at the girl for a moment and furrowed her brow. "Well, where are the other recruits then? I thought there were more."

"Oh, you see...um...most of the others were sent to Moon Base Headquarters." The girl answered and straightened her already perfectly straight shirt. "My name's Mary Sue, but you can call me Number 666." She looked up and smiled. "I'm sure you won't have any trouble teaching me, Sir."

Number One shrugged. "Very well then. Number Two, I want you to ready the identification templates. The rest of you make some room for Number 666 somewhere in the tree house," One directed as he and Two led Number 666 into the control room.

"How about this one? I think she'd like this one!"

"Nah, we can't put her in the kitchen."

"Maybe this room?"

"Uh, Number Four, that's the broom closet."

Four grumbled under his breath and slammed to utility closet door shut. "So what? It's not like she's staying permanently or anything. I say we just leave her out on the roof."

"How can you be so _mean_, Number Four? She's one of us, right?" Three cried as she waved her floppy sleeves in the air. She paused for a moment and added, "But the roof would be neat..."

Five adjusted her hat and lowered her voice. "I don't know about you two, but there's something about Number 666 that just gives me the creeps."

"There! You see! I knew there was something up!" Four declared. "Anyone who calls Number One 'Sir' is definitely off their rocker."

"Maybe she was just being polite," Three suggested.

"Still..." Number Five paused in thought. "I dunno; something just doesn't seem right." She began to pace around the couch. "Number Three, you met Number 666 first, right? Where did you find her?"

"Um..." Three cocked her head to the side. "She was at the door, so I let her in."

"..." Four slapped himself on the forehead. "You don't just let anyone in the tree house! You've got to get proper identification verification and all that stuff, you know. What were you thinking?!"

Five shook her head as Number Three indignantly crossed her arms. "Well, Mr. Smarty-Pants, she didn't look like a villain, so what's the problem?" Three retorted.

"Neither does the Toilenator; he looks like a moron, but that doesn't mean he's not a villain," Four protested.

"Dude, the Toilenator _is_ a moron, but that's not the point," Number Five interrupted. "What I'm concerned about is what she said about Moon Base. Why would they go through all the trouble of flying the new recruits there for training when it's just easier to send them here?"

"Aw, that's easy. Who wouldn't want to train there? Moon Base is so _cool_!" Number Four exclaimed as he walked away from the broom closet.

Five frowned. "That's not good enough of a reason. I'm going to try to contact them and find out just what's going on."

"Alright then. We're going to have you answer a few simple questions about yourself to put into the computer. Number Two, you're in charge of regulating the identification template," One directed as he handed Two a Rainbow Monkey dinnerware plate with various wires and a toothbrush sticking out of the side. Two extended a thick red wire and hooked it up to the screen.

"First question. What is your date of birth?"

Number 666 paused for a moment before answering. "April 31, 1995."

"Favorite color?"

"Beige."

Number One and Two exchanged glances as Two continued to input the data onto the computer.

"Favorite food?"

"Spinach."

A longer pause passed between the two operatives. Number One lowered his shades. "Are you sure?"

Number 666 nodded. "Of course. Who doesn't like spinach?"

Number One shrugged and continued. "Favorite animal?"

"Atlantic sea mollusk."

"A what?"

"It's kind of like a clam."

Two grinned. "Man, clams are good. Especially with tartar sauce."

"I just LOVE clams," Number 666 gushed with overzealous enthusiasm.

"Number Two," One frowned. "We're not here to discuss seafood." He turned back to his clipboard. "What is your favorite genre of music?"

Number 666 blinked. instrumental," she answered after a moment.

One signaled over to Number Two and he disconnected the identification template. "Very well then," One began as he gathered up his papers onto the clipboard. "I must say you're quite the...uh...individual, Number 666. Welcome aboard."

Number 666 smiled. Things were looking up.

"Ooh! You collect Rainbow Monkeys too?!"

Mary Sue nodded. "Of course! Who doesn't?" She paused for a moment and sighed. "But all my stuff is back at home. I sure wish I could show you though."

"What a shame," scoffed Number Four.

Number Three shook her head and grinned. "Aw, that's okay, Number 666, you can use some of mine!"

666 hesitated for a moment. "Uh, sure! Thanks a lot, Number Three," she replied and sat down on the couch. "So when do I start learning the computer system?" She asked hastily.

"Not for another day at least," Number One answered from the other side of the room. "It's too late to start on anything right now, so we might as well call it a day." He turned away from the security system to face the rest of his team. "Have you decided where you're going to stay?"

"Oh, _gee_, Sir. I haven't given it any thought," Number 666 replied and folded her hands. A poorly muffled cough came from Number Four and Three jabbed him in the shoulder with her elbow.

"You can stay in my room, Number 666," Number Three exclaimed as she waved her sleeves in the air, accidentally smacking Number Four in the face.

"Actually," interrupted Number Five as she walked into the recreation room, "I was thinking you could hang out with me, Number 666," she casually remarked.

"Well, _gosh_. That'd be so cool, Number Five." 666 replied and began to blink excessively, another hideous all-too-familiar Mary Sue trait.

"Glad that's settled," grumbled Number Four as he picked a nearby magazine off the table.

"So, Abigail...what do you like to do in your spare time?"

Number Five raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know my name?"

666 wavered for a moment before answering. "Aw, _gee_. Everyone knows who you are. You're practically famous on Moon Base. Not to mention a lot better than that creepy sister of yours."

"Uh huh. Sure, girl." Number Five replied as she looked up from her book. "Look, it's getting late so I'm turning in for the night. You can sleep on the couch if you want."

Number 666 clapped her hands in an obnoxiously chipper fashion. "Wow, thanks a bunch!" She squealed.

"Yeaaaah...don't mention it," Five yawned and walked over to her bed.

"Nothing like a midnight snack, I always say," Number Two said to himself as he bustled through the refrigerator. "Now where did I put that sandwich..." he trailed off as he looked through the doorway into the control room. "Hey, who left the computer on?" Two speculated and closed the fridge door. He tiptoed into the control room and scanned the area. "Hello?"

"Hi there, Hoagie...can't sleep?"

"Naw, I'm just getting a sna—hey, how come you're on the computer at this hour?"

Number 666 rotated around in the computer chair to face Number Two. "I figured I could get a head start on my lesson. What do you think?"

Number Two's immediate response, as one would guess, should be to deny the cunning little Mary Sue any access to the computer, but unfortunately, the evil and subliminal powers of the Mary Sue-ness always prevail. Thus, with this said, Number Two shrugged and took a bite out of his mustard sandwich. "Sure, why not? I guess it couldn't hurt."

Number 666 smiled and turned back to the computer. "I thought so."

Two shrugged and took another bite out of his sandwich. "Okay then. See you in the morning," he replied and walked back to his room. Number 666 twisted around in the chair to face the computer again and smiled at her face reflected on the screen's iridescent glow.

"Havin' fun looking at your face, _Mary Sue_?"

666 whirled around in her chair. "Abigail. What a pleasant surprise," she piqued. "I wouldn't have expected to see _you_ awake at this hour."

"Neither would I," Five answered. "Does the boss know you're using the computer?" She asked as she gazed up at the screen.

666 answered with a sweet smile. "No, but I'm _sure_ he wouldn't mind."

"Maybe not, but I sure do."

"..." Mary Sue's smile became a pout. "Why can't we be friends, Number Five?"

"I'll tell you why," Five retorted as she straightened her hat. "There ain't no way I'm bein' friends with someone who's birthday is on the thirty-first of April."

"_Gosh_, Number Five, what's so bad about my birthday? And how did you know when my birthday was? It looks like I'm not the only one doing a little hacking around the computers, eh?"

Number Five shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, unlike you, I'm a licensed operative so there's no problem with me going through the computer files. And anyways..." A wide smile spread underneath the brim of Five's hat. "There is no April thirty-first, Mary Sue."

Number 666 blinked. "I'm afraid you must be mistaken. I should know my own birthday."

"Number Three might not be able to read a calendar, but I sure can and I'll tell you this. There's no April thirty-first anywhere on that calendar. You're hiding something."

"Me?" 666 squeaked. "Of course not. What a silly thing to say."

"Listen to yourself, girl! I contacted Moon Base Headquarters earlier today and do you know what they told me?"

Number 666's eyes widened and she lowered her voice. "I can only guess."

"We aren't supposed to have any new recruits to train until CHRISTMAS," Number Five stated. "I'm thinking Number Three was right all along." Five raised the brim of her hat and stared at Number 666 directly in the eyes. "What's your plan?"

Number 666 bit her lip. "Why couldn't we be friends, Abby? _everyone_ is my friend, you know."

"Oh, so now you're goin' to get all mushy on me, eh? Well that doesn't work with me, girl. Spill the beans."

"Fine then. If you must know." Mary Sue drew in a deep breath, her hair still managing to maintain its flawlessness despite her obvious distress. "You see...I'm a midget."

"You've _gotta_ be kidding me. You look fine to me," Number Five replied skeptically.

"Maybe I look fine for a nine-year-old," Mary Sue glared. "But how many 'nine-year-olds' do you meet who are born in the 70s?"

"The 70s?! Man, that means you must be an adult! Why the heck didn't we pick you up on the radar?" Five exclaimed. Nothing was making any sense.

Number 666 closed her eyes and shook her head. "To be blunt, your adult radar is based predominantly on hormonal scans...it's too much for a _child_ to understand. If only you knew the heartache I had to endure while all my friends grew up and I stayed the same."

Number Five rolled her eyes. "Don't get sappy with me, I understand perfectly what you're getting at. But that still doesn't explain why you did it."

"Don't you SEE? All I want is to be accepted," Number 666 sobbed and turned away, her face glistening with tears. "I've never fit in anywhere because of my height. So I thought, why not try and accept my height and try to join the Kid's Next Door?"

"Yeah, well, hacking into our computers doesn't exactly qualify as 'accepting your height'. And more importantly, you're an adult. Meaning YOU CAN'T JOIN. What part of 'no way' do you not understand?"

Number 666 rose from her seat and glared at Five. "It's easy for you to say; you've always been accepted—you have friends. No one makes fun of you for being a midget."

"AGH!" Number Five yelled and threw her hands in the air. "That's cuz I'm NOT a midget! This conversation's going nowhere!"

"Uh, Number Five...are you okay?" Called a voice. Numbers Five and 666 whirled around to find Number Two standing in the kitchen doorway with another sandwich in his hand.

"Number Two," Five grinned. "I bet you weren't aware of this, were you?"

"Of what? Number 666? Yeah, I knew she was on the computer." Two shrugged and wiped a spot of mustard off his mouth onto his pajama sleeve. "So?"

"Number '666' isn't an operative after all; she's an adult! And adult midget, which explains why we didn't catch on."

Two choked on his sandwich. "You can't be serious!" His eyes narrowed. "But how did you find out?"

"Huh-LO! She told me! Why don't you ask her yourself?!" Number Five exclaimed.

"Hm. I would..." Two began. "If I knew where she was." He took another bite out of his sandwich.

"What do you...aw man. This is NOT my day," Number Five sighed exasperatedly as she turned around to find the computer chair empty. "Where the heck did she go? We can't have an adult runnin' around the tree house."

Number Two sat down in the computer chair and brought up a folder on the screen. "Hey, look at this; her entire file's been deleted." They exchanged glances. "It's almost like she was never here."

Five crossed her arms and nodded. "It's better that way."

"Yeah but..." Two tossed the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth. "What are we going to tell the others? We're a little short on clues, you know....Hey get it? Short? Midget?"

"Aw, _man_..."

* * *

The moral of today's story: Write your characters well. Anyone can write a Mary Sue, but just remember that it's the well-rounded characters that last.

**A/N**: I look back on this and I'm not very happy with how it came out, and it took forever for my sister to grasp the idea of the Mary Sue in the story disappearing as compared to the other stereotyped Mary Sues in fanfiction. If you write stories with Mary Sue-ish characters, this wasn't meant to offend you. I was just kind of frustrated. And I don't want any Lizzie fans to be offended by the opening paragraph either. Like I said, I was kind of frustrated.


	3. STUCK

**Disclaimer**: Scenario credits to Lady Genjutsu. KND doesn't belong to me. You go, Warburton-sama!

**A/N**: Okay, a few things to clear up from the last chapter. I don't usually do this, but I'm making an exception this time:

AkitoSana: Thank you for the much-needed background on Operation: REPORT. I can't believe I missed that episode. My collaborative stories usually end up not being finished, but primarily because my friends lose interest.

Remedy428: How could I have introduced a Mary Sue without giving some background?! I'm really sorry and thanks for pointing that out, I'll try to go back and add something about the Mary Sue stereotype. I'm planning on putting aside some time after work this week to finish your story, so don't take my review personally—you have an excellent writing style so keep it up! And since I'm not a legal midget (short, but not a midget; 4'11" doesn't qualify as a midget) I wouldn't know they'd prefer to be addressed as "dwarves." Personally, I'd rather be called a midget—'dwarf' conjures the image of one of those jolly little lawn gnomes from _The Sims_.

ahhelga: I wasn't intending to cause any offense by Mary Sue's number; on the contrary, I honestly didn't believe anyone would pick up on it. (Kudos to you, Number 34, and silent H.) If you'd like, I could go back and change it, but I thought it was kind of fitting even though she really didn't turn out to be all that threatening. As far as naming the characters is concerned, I find it easier to simply address them by their numbers—that's just laziness on my part. If it's really annoying than just say so and I'll stop being lazy. _Grin_

And to everyone else: thank you so much for your reviews! Getting feedback is great help for writing!

* * *

Operation: STUCK

**S**ometimes

**T**raveling

**U**pwards

**C**auses

**K**onfusion

"Wow, I didn't think we'd ever finish!"

"So when can we use it?"

Number Two proudly gazed upon his newest device and let out an accomplished sigh. "Right now," he replied. "It's about time I did something about that old elevator. This baby covers every single level on the tree house."

"Now _that_ is a nice piece 'o work," Five grinned as she gave Number Two thumbs up. "I'm thinkin' we give it a test run right now up to the Cheese Room. Whaddya say?"

"Ooh! Cheese Room! Cheese Room!" Number Three let out a cheer and flapped her sleeves in the air.

"Sounds good to me," Number One nodded. "Alright then, let's—hey! Number Four! Where are you going?"

Four sheepishly peeked around the staircase banister. "Aw, forget elevators; I'm usin' the stairs."

"What are you, _nuts_?!" Two protested. "There are like, a buhmillion steps to the Cheese Room! And besides, we're on the ground level."

"Feh," Number Four scoffed and proceeded to discreetly sneak up the stairs. "Elevators are for wussies. Besides, think of all the exercise we'll get from climbing the stairs."

Number Three raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "I think you're just _scared_."

"I am not," Four hastily protested.

"Are too, are too," Three sang as she waved her sleeves. "Number Four's afraid of the el-e-va-toooor!"

Four glared from under his bangs and clenched his fists. "I am _not_ scared of some ruddy elevator and I'll prove it," he declared as he leaped off the staircase and ran over to the elevator's open doorway. "See?" he smirked, gingerly stepping over the threshold. "No fear here."

"Look, that's great 'an all, but Number Five wants to get to that Cheese Room," Five interrupted as she pushed Four into the elevator. Numbers One and Two nodded in agreement and followed Five, Number Three skipping behind the two while waving her floppy sleeves.

"Hey, wait! You guys—!" Four exclaimed as the doors closed. Number One pushed his way to the front and punched in the number on the control pad, pausing momentarily to check his glasses in his reflection on the gray tiled wall. The gears sprang to life as the elevator began to ascend up the trunk of the tree house.

"See now?" Five grinned as she gave Number Four a friendly slap on the back. "That wasn't so bad." Number Four's face began to turn a pale green as he slumped to his knees.

Suddenly a loud screech sounded from overhead and the elevator abruptly stopped. The five operatives stared at the closed door in expectant hesitation. "You were saying?" Number Four groaned as his face went from green to pale white.

"Maybe the doors are stuck?" Number Three shrugged.

"Maybe, or maybe not," One replied, somehow maintaining his calm composure. "Number Two, can you give us a status report?"

Two began to fumble through his pockets until he withdrew an orange-handled screwdriver. "I think it's jammed, Number One. The doors should've opened by now."

"I knew it!" Four exclaimed. "This is all your fault!" If you hadn't made me come on this stupid thing in the first place this wouldn't have happened!" He cried as he accusingly pointed a finger at Number Three.

"I didn't _make_ you come on," she replied. "You did that all by yourself."

"Yeah, well, you...and...but..." he left his unfinished sentence hanging defeatedly in the air.

Number One peered over his shades. "Don't panic, Number Four, chances are it will start up again."

"Panic?! Who's panicking?! Not me!" Number Four objected, obviously panicking.

"Geez, man. Calm down," Number Five shrugged. "We've been in worse jams before."

"Easy for you to say!" Four cried as he elbowed his way to the elevator doors and tried in vain to pry them open. "You're the one who decided to go to the Cheese Room!"

Two squeezed past Number Four and began to unscrew the control panel cover. "Hey, don't go blaming this on Number Five. It's not her fault you're claustrophobic."

Number Four continued to tug at the doors. "I-AM-NOT-CLAUZZY-WHATEVER!!!" he hollered as he lost his grip and smacked into the wall, narrowly missing Number One's head.

"Number Four," One began calmly. "Everyone has fears. Being afraid of closed-in spaces is nothing to be ashamed of."

"First off, I am NOT ashamed, and secondly, I am NOT whatever the heck you're calling me!" Four snapped as he picked himself off the floor and began to study the ventilation ducts on the ceiling.

"Claustrophobic," Two corrected as he pulled out some green wires from the control panel.

"Whatever," Number Four growled. "Hey, Number Three, can you give me a boost? I bet I can reach that vent and get myself out of here."

Number Three blinked. "What about the rest of us?"

"What do you mean, 'what about the rest of us'? Of _course_ you're coming!" He snapped as he rolled up his hoodie sleeves.

"Number Four, as your leader I forbid you to go in that vent," Number One interrupted. "Not only is it a hasty, rash decision, but it's risky and I can't allow you to endanger yourself or others."

"Listen to yourselves! We're all gonna die if we stay here!" Number Four cried as he pulled at his hair. "Either we'll run out of air and all suffo—suffo—die, or we'll become so hungry we'll have to eat each other!" With that said he turned around and slumped into a little ball in the corner of the elevator.

"Man, he really does have issues," Five remarked. "But I am worried. How long is this going to take?"

"I don't want to die! I still have lots to do!" Number Three cried. "Number Four, are you still thinking about that vent idea? Because I'll give you that boost if you want it." Number Four mumbled an inaudible answer from the corner and began to rock back and forth.

"For the last time, the vent is off limits," Number One declared, his patience waning.

Number Five raised her hat and looked at Number One squarely in the eye. "What else is there? I say we go for it! Why not stop trying to be all heroic all the time and follow some common sense?!" She frowned, her cool long gone.

"Number Five, you know as well as I do that the vent might lead to the furnace! I can't afford to take that risk!" Number One retorted, his own tolerance snapping.

"Uh, guys..." Number Two interrupted from the control panel.

"Not right now!" Numbers Five and One yelled, sending Number Two into a cringe and Four out of his corner.

"Yeah, I say forget this crummy elevator and go out the vent!" Number Four announced, his fighting spirit rushing back.

"Uh, hello? Guys?" Two timidly added from the corner as he pointed to the control box.

Number One sharply turned around, his sunglasses off center. "You can't just go gallivanting through the vent like there's no problem! We have no way of knowing whereabouts in the tree house the elevator's stuck, meaning we can't tell where this particular vent leads to." He gestured to Number Three and Number Five, who were intently examining the ventilation duct. "What would you tell Moon Base if Numbers Three or Five got burned to a crisp in the furnace?"

Number Four paused, the color draining out of his face. "You've got a point...but still, we can't stay here."

"Uh, guys..."

"I don't wanna be crispy!" Number Three sobbed and turned on the waterworks.

"That's not what he meant! Ah, don't cry!" Number Four replied as he bit his lip in frustration and turned to Number One. "_Now_ look what you did! You're not helpin' anyone!"

"I...hey, at least I'm being honest!" Number One protested as he nervously mopped his brow with the back of his hand. He wasn't about to add that 'crispy' and 'burning to a crisp' were essentially the same thing.

"Guys..."

"Man, there you go again, always getting the last say. I know you're the boss and all, but you don't have to be so pessimistic," Number Five glared at Number One. "Always thinkin' of the worst things that could happen; that's all you do. No wonder we're not getting anywhere—you're too scared to do anything!"

"I am not too scared, it's my job as the leader to ensure everyone's safety!"

"Hey, guys, can you listen for a moment?"

"But I don't want to be crispy! I wanna get out of here!"

"Will you two stop yelling? You're only makin' it worse!"

Number Two sighed and shook his head. Desperate times called for desperate measures, or a creative event-related joke. In this case, both scenarios won out. "Hang onto your hats, people! We're about to get floored! Get it? Elevator? Floored?" Number Two grinned as he flipped a switch on the control panel.

"Aw, sheesh, Number Two! This isn't the time for—_WHOA_!!!" Number Five yelled as the elevator unexpectedly began to sharply drop down the tree trunk at break-neck speed.

"WE'RE GONNA DIIIEEEEE!" Number Three and Four cried in unison and hugged each other in fear.

Number One attempted to stay flat on his feet in vain as he clutched onto his sunglasses. "Number Two, what did you just _do_?!"

Number Two grinned as the elevator abruptly shuddered to a jolting halt and the doors innocently pinged open. "Welcome back to the ground floor," he answered. "While you were arguing I fixed up the control panel."

Number Three and Four exchanged self-conscious glances and hastily broke away from their frantic embrace. Number Three scanned herself over and beamed. "I didn't get all crispy after all!" she declared satisfactorily.

"Yeah, well...aw, nevermind..." Number Four grumbled and shuffled his feet.

"So after all that..." Number Five gawked and turned to Number One. "Boss, I am _so_ sorry—"

Number One held up the palm of his hand. "No need to apologize, Number Five. We were all under pressure. But Number Two," he added. "I think it would be best if you install an emergency exit switch to ensure that an incident like this doesn't happen again."

"Sure thing, Number One," Number Two saluted. "So, who's up for some stairs? Get it? Up? Stairs?"

"Dude, that was bad, seriously." Number Five groaned and trudged up the stairs. "I don't think I want any of that cheese anymore."

* * *

**A/N**: Contest time! When you leave me a review (assuming you do so) let me know something about your own childhood—past or present—that you considering to be annoying; for example, why parents shave, the purpose of school uniforms, obnoxious neighborhood bullies, etc. Don't tell me about the time you went bowling with Uncle Ralph and got a bowling pin stuck up your nose and had it surgically removed; I don't care. Highly fascinating and remotely horrific, but that's not what I mean. I'm looking for inspiration for the next chappie so whoever leaves the best idea wins. (Not that your idea's bad—aw, you know what I mean) Thanks for reading! 


	4. BEES

**Disclaimer**: I don't own KND and never will. But I do own my new Learner's Permit, so go me...

**A/N**: Wow! Thank you all so much for your reviews and suggestions; I really got a kick out of reading them (and I think I scared the rest of my family in the process). I only have a couple of comments to make:

Jill: Yeah, I know Number Four's been in an elevator like, a buhzillion times, but don't you agree it was kind of funny? I dunno, maybe I'm just twisted. But I'm a mild claustrophobic too, so I can understand it to an extent. I'll admit that if I really wanted to I could have made him crazier, but I thought that would be a little too much, you know?

But I'd like to dedicate this chappie to my sister. When she and I were younger, and even now, we both hate(d) bees with a loathsome hate of hatredness. I thought this would make a cute idea for a chapter. But never fear; I'll reveal my top three favorite suggestions for the next chapter at the end, so vote for your favorite in a review. (Also, if you think this is kind of a stupid way to go about finding chapter topics, by all means, say so. I don't like looking stupid—especially when I'm acting stupid...like now....)

One more quick note: doesn't show my little divider things anymore for some reason () so now you'll be seeing the horizontal rule instead. Sorry for the inconvenience!

* * *

Operation: BEES 

**B**umblebees

**E**vade

**E**xtermination

**S**uperbly

* * *

Yes, by now you should all be familiar with the fact that Sector V is stationed in a tree house, like many of the other KND sectors across the globe. But what many don't realize is, whatever happened to the creatures inhabiting the tree before the tree house was built? Well, the answer to this question is simple: everyday fungi, insects, and your occasional cuddly (and potentially vicious) squirrel or two have been evacuated, one way or another. Because this knowledge is so elementary, so fundamental, and undeniably common sense, most don't stop and think about these commonly found roommates.

This theory (if you can call it that) explains why the operatives have never had any difficulties with the neighboring wildlife, and if they have it's never been addressed. But there's always an exception. Always. Regardless of what precautions taken, there will always be opposition, conflict, and those things in life that are—to put it simply—not fun.

It started out like any other ordinary day. The birds singing, the sun shining, the mission...well, there wasn't a mission planned for today; too bad for Number One.

"Kids Next Door, as you're aware that today is—eh—a day off," Nigel addressed the rest of his group in the recreation room, the tone of his voice emphasizing his overwhelming disappointment. "I've arranged a special task for us." He continued as he began to pace around the large purple couch in front of the enormous wide-screened television.

Number Three waved her sleeves wildly in the air from her spot on the floor next to the couch. "Ooh! Is it a party? Parties are fun! Let's have a party! Party! Party!"

"No, we're not having a party, Number Three. This is serious business. I'm assigning you in groups to **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**. the tree house this afternoon. It's been almost a year since we've last done it, so I believe it's high time we checked up on it again." Number One replied and whipped out a clipboard from behind his back.

"'Star' the tree house? What's that mean?" Number Four asked and jumped up onto the sofa between Numbers Two and Five.

"'**S**urvey **T**ruthfully **A**nd **R**eport'." One answered and began to distribute notebooks out to the rest of them. "Basically, you'll be going around and checking on whatever maintenance is required in certain sections of the tree house."

"Aw, _man_. How can you think of working when we have a day off? Seriously, boss. You're gonna kill yourself one of these days by overwork. Why not just take a break?" Number Five groaned and kicked her feet up onto the footrest.

Number Two looked up from his magazine and gave a good-natured shrug. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Last time I **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**.ed the tree house by myself. It's actually kind of fun."

"Fun? Ooh! I wanna **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**.! Do we get costumes?!" Number Three cried enthusiastically.

Number One rolled his eyes and handed Kuki a dark blue notepad and pencil. "No, Number Three, there are no costumes. All I want you to do is check levels 51 through 75 with Number Four." He turned to Numbers Two and Five and handed Number Five a green notepad and a clickie pen. (Man, I love those) "You two will be working on levels 25 through 50."

"Hey, what about you, boss? You're not gonna leave us with all the fun _work_ an' all, are you?" Number Five asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Number One cocked an eyebrow. "I will be working on levels 24 to the ground floor considering it's closer to my house. I expect you all to report back here in the recreation room in exactly one hour with your **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**. reports ready," He declared as he took out his own yellow notepad and stuck a pencil behind his ear. "If you encounter any trouble along the way, remember there are KND Emergency Call Boxes stationed throughout the tree house."

"Yay! Let's go work on our **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**. report, Number Four!" Three chirruped as she skipped out of the recreation room, dragging Number Four by the arm.

"I can walk _fine_ by myself, you know," Number Four argued as they rounded the corner, his face turning pink.

"Well, I've gotta warn you guys, **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**.ing the tree house can take a while, so we can't waste any time." Number Two remarked as he shut his magazine. He paused and grinned. "I suggest we'd better get **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**.-ted then!"

Number Five let out another groan, her hat covering her eyes. "Man, don't you _ever_ quit?" She pushed the footrest out from underneath her and got off the couch, the green notepad in her hand. "Let's do this."

* * *

Number Four tapped the wooden floor with his foot. "Well, it feels alright, but I think it's a little loose. What do you think, Number Three?" He asked as he turned to face his partner.

"Super swell-erific!" She exclaimed and began to furiously scribble into the dark blue notepad.

Number Four suspiciously raised an eyebrow. "What are you writing in there? This is supposed to be strict **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**. business." He abandoned his inspection of the floorboard and walked over to take a peek at Number Three's notes. "C'mon, lemme see," he protested as he stood on the tips of his toes, barely passing her shoulder.

"Here you go," she beamed and handed him the notebook. "I've been taking _reaaaaally_ good notes, see?"

Number Four grabbed the notebook and scanned over her swirly writing. "What the heck? Number Three, we're supposed to be recording maintenance repairs for the tree house, not 'level 67 is my favorite because it's sunny in the afternoon'! What kind of a repair is that?!"

"...Aw, but Number Four, that stuff's so _boring_! Wouldn't you rather be writing about all the pretty stuff in the tree house?"

"Not really..." He grumbled in reply. "Come on, we're wasting time. Let's go check out the east hallway."

Number Three shrugged, hooked the pencil back into the plastic spiral notepad ring, and skipped off behind Number Four. "After that, let's go check the Power Storage Supply Room, okay? Okay? Then we can see all the hamsters!"

Number Four stuffed his hands into the pockets of his orange hoodie. "I guess so, why not? With all those smelly hamsters running around, there's bound to be some repairs needed so—hey, do you hear that?" He stopped in mid-sentence, his posture tensing.

Three paused, her ears alert. "Hear what?" She scanned the hallway and inattentively thumbed the edge of the notepad.

"That buzzin' sound..." Number Four answered. "It sounds like it's coming from Number Five's room." They both quickened their pace until they rounded the corner, directly next to the outer wall of Number Five's room.

"I don't see anything..." Number Three replied as her eyes gazed across the walls. "But it definitely sounds louder, that's for sure."

Number Four withdrew his hands from his pockets and sauntered over to the corner of the hall where the outer wall of Number Five's room met with the hall wall. He tapped his foot against the corner. "What's this?" A lump of crusty brown something lining the edge of the wall caught his eye. He drew up his foot and gave the wall a sharp kick.

"Number Four!" Three cried in protest, her floppy sleeves sailing through the air in a frenzied blur. "You just said we were supposed to be _writing_ about repairs, not _making_ them..." She trailed off as the wooden wall crumbled under Number Four's fierce kick, revealing...

"A _bee_ nest?!?!" Number Four exclaimed and hastily jumped away from the hole in the wall. "Look at the _size_ of that thing! It's spreading through all the wall insulation!" His voice held a note of fear.

"Do you think Number Five knew about it?" Three asked, completely undisturbed by the giant honeycomb hive.

Number Four bit his lip. "I doubt it; she'd have to be pretty stupid not to notice." He gave an involuntary shudder and looked away from the hive. "You know what I'm saying, Number Three? I mean, she's usually—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?" Number Three was standing in front of the hive with her usual goofy grin on her face, and nearly twenty bees perched on her arms. Number Four's eyes widened in shock. "Are you crazy or something?! You're going to get hurt!!"

"I'm saying hi to the bees!" She smiled and began to pet-talk to the insects on her arms.

Number Four pulled at his hair and bit his lip harder than before. "You're nuts! Ya can't just... cuz ... y'know ...the bees, and...well..." he grasped at the words, trying to form a solid argument.

"I don't see what your problem is, I think they like me," Three announced and her smile widened. As if in approval, the bees began to buzz in unison.

"But the bees...!"

Number Three sighed and gestured the bees back to their hive. "Fine, I'll go get the others. You guys better BEE-have!" She grabbed the notebook in her hand and jogged off down the hall.

"Huh? Wait, that's not what I was talking about—Number Three!" Number Four called and slumped to the floor. "Don't leave me...with the bees," he began to edge as far away from the nest as possible and let out a yell of frustration. "I HATE bees!!!"

"...'BEE-have'? What the heck....?"

* * *

Forty minutes had passed—forty rather successful minutes, or so Number Two assumed. So far they hadn't come across anything major: a few loose floorboards, some rotted roof tiles, and a couple of unstable stair banisters. Other than that, the KND tree house was in excellent condition.

"Yo, Number Two! You think we should check our rooms?" Number Five called from across the hall on level 50.

Number Two paused and scratched the back of his head while leaning up against the wooden balcony railing. "Yeah, I guess so, that would be a good idea. We should ask the others about it first to get their permission."

Number Five laughed. "Numbah Five thinks you just don't want to go in Number Three's room."

He shrugged and answered with a grin. "You got me there, but can you blame me? It's stuffed with stuffed animals." He dwelled on his last remark for a moment before continuing. "Get it? Stuffed full of stuffed animals?"

Number Five rolled her eyes. "Yeah, nice job. Whatever. Let's go find the others." She said with an off-handed wave and headed down the stairs. "You know, Number Two, those jokes of yours are getting worse every da—" Suddenly Number Three crashed into Number Five on the staircase, knocking her over onto her back. "Hey, what gives?" She asked angrily and adjusted her hat.

"Number Five! Number Five! It's awful! You've gotta see!" Number Three cried. "There's a gigantanormous bee nest inside your bedroom wall!"

Number Five's face paled. "A bee nest? Show me."

"Okay, but you're not gonna _liiiike_ it," Three warned and turned back down the staircase. Number Two grabbed the green notebook and ran after them, quickly jotting down some more notes.

Number Five remained silent the entire way down the stairs and pulled her hat over her eyes. Number Two turned to her and frowned. "What's wrong, Number Five? It's just a bee nest."

She glared out from underneath her hat, her face still pale. "Number Five _hates_ bees," she replied icily.

"Aw, don't worry about it, I can get rid of them. After all, what harm can a bunch of bees do?"

"Number Five is allergic to bees."

"Ah...sorry..." Number Two trailed off in embarrassment. After a moment his face lit up in resolve as he struck an overly dramatic pose. "But don't worry! I'll take care of those bees, you'd better BEE-lieve it!"

The color returned to Number Five's face and she gave Two a playful whack on the shoulder. "Man, you've really gotta work on those phrases 'o yours."

"We're almost there," Number Three assured with a wave of her sleeve and rounded the corner, smacking into Number Four.

"Number Three," he gasped and grabbed her by the bottom cuff of her sleeve. "You've gotta see this!" All traces of his earlier heroism had abandoned him and his hair was slightly matted.

Numbers Two and Five exchanged nervous glances and follow Four down the hall until they reached Number Five's room. Number Two let out a low whistle. "Wow...now that's what I call an un-BEE-lievable hive!"

Numbers Four and Five cast him a glare and Five stepped forward to get a better look, still maintaining her distance. "Man, they're in there pretty deep—HEY!! Look at what they're doing! They're eating all of my secret candy stash!" Number Five cried and began to run forward in a rage.

Number Two held her back by the shoulder. "It's not that unusual; bees are attracted to sweet and sticky things, so it's not a surprise they're in your wall where you hide your candy."

"But...!" Number Five sighed deeply and leaned up against the adjacent wall. (Not the wall with the hive!) "Well, what are we gonna do about it now?"

Number Two gave a goofy salute and slapped Number Four on the back. "Never fear, Number Four and I will take care of your bee problem!"

"We _will_?" Number Four asked, his voice rising an octave.

Number Two nodded. "We'd better, BEE-fore it gets out of hand!" He started laughing at his own joke. Numbers Three and Five exchanged glances and shook their heads.

* * *

"You can't do this to me!! It's not fair! I know, how about YOU go first, your number comes before mine anyways!"

"Sorry—I'm going to my room. I've got an idea that'll get rid of the bees _reaaaally_ good," Number Two called and ran off down the hall, leaving Number Four standing miserably in front of the hive. As if on cue, the bees began buzzing menacingly.

"You do that," Number Five added and followed Number Two. "I'm going to my room to get my allergy kit. Hopefully there aren't any bees in there yet."

Number Three waved her sleeves in the air again. "How are you going to get rid of the bees, Number Four?"

Number Four desolately stared at the beehive, his face paling. "Eh..."

"What's your plan?"

"Um....."

"Aw, come on! Lemme in on your super-secret ideas, pleeeeease?!?!?!"

Number Four lowered his head, his bangs covering his eyes. "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do..." Three clapped her sleeves in anticipation. "I'm gonna KICK THE CRUD OUTTA THOSE RUDDY BEES!!!!!" He hollered and began to charge at the nest.

"Number Four—!" Three hastily blocked her eyes, then as an afterthought, she moved one of her hands to the side and peeked through the crack.

"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

* * *

_Several Floors Down...._

"Nigel, did you hear something?" Mr. Uno asked as he lovingly polished his sousaphone.

"No, Dad," Number One answered as he paced around the living room, jotting down notes in his notebook.

Mr. Uno shrugged. "How'd you like to practice with me once you're done with..." he paused and watched Number One take notes. "...ah, whatever it is you're doing."

"Sure, Dad,' Number One answered absentmindedly with the casual wave of his free hand.

"That's the spirit! I knew you had it in you, Nigel, you old bean, you."

"Sure, Dad."

* * *

"Hold still or it won't EVER come out!"

"I AM holding still!"

"No you're _not_!"

"Yes I _am_!"

Number Three put her hands on her hips and gave Number Four a stern stare, their faces only inches apart. "If you want me to take that stinger out you'd better stay still or else, got it?!" Number Four looked away and grumbled some sort of an answer. Number Three grinned—that was good enough for her. She leaned over and started scraping out the stinger on the left side of his face.

"ACK! What the heck do you think you're _doing_?!" He hollered and backed away.

Number Three rolled her eyes. "I'm taking the stinger out!

"Not like _that_ you're not!"

"You can't pull bee stingers out, Mr. Smartystung or else they'll get more stuck! You have to scrape them out!"

Number Four glared. "Then I'll do it myse—AGH!!!!!!"

Number Three grinned in amusement as she watched Four painfully attempt to remove the stinger. "Change your mind?"

Number Four grumbled again and averted his eyes as Number Three delicately removed the stinger. "See? That wasn't so bad! Now all we need is some ice and you'll be good as new," she declared and rose from the floor.

"Yeah...thanks..." he muttered as his face flushed red.

"Sure!" she paused and frowned in concern. "Number Four, are you okay? You're all red—oh no! Are you having an aller—aller—uh...allergic reaction?!"

Number Four's blush deeped and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I am NOT having an allergic reaction!!!"

"But you're all red!"

"I'M FINE!!!"

"Okay, okay," Number Three sulked and waved her floppy sleeve dejectedly. "That's the thanks I get for helping," she glared.

Number Four's face fell and he held up his hand to his sore face. "Ah...that's not what I meant...sorry..." he looked away and rubbed the injury.

"Hey guys!" called a voice. It was Number Two running down the hallway. "Are you ready for this?" He slowed down and caught his breath. "Check it out!" He held up a large spray can attached to a wooden board. There were two color-coded triggers on the facedown side of the board. "It's my new **N**.**I**.**T**.**S**. device."

"Nits? But we're dealing with bees this time, not lice," Number Four interrupted, still rubbing his sore check.

"**N**asty **I**nsect **T**ermination **S**pray. I've never had the chance to test it out. Wanna give it a try?"

Number Four hastily shoved his hands into his pockets and gave Number Two an icy stare. "I'm never going near those ruddy bugs again. I nearly lost my face."

"I think you're exaggerating a little bit, Number Four," Three giggled.

"I am NOT!"

"Uh, hey you two...do you want to get rid of the bees or not?" Number Two interrupted and impatiently twirled the **N**.**I**.**T**.**S**. device in his hands.

"YES!"

"NO!"

Number Four and Three exchanged glances. It was Number Four who broke the silence. "Are you insane?! The whole point of this was to get rid of those stupid bees! What's WRONG with you today?!"

"You can't just _kill_ them, they didn't anything wrong," Number Three hotly replied, her sleeves obscurely waving through the air.

"'Didn't do anything wrong'?! They stung my face! How is that _not_ wrong?!"

"They only did it because you were trying to kick their nest out of the tree house!"

"Yeah, well they shouldn't have made their cruddy nest in our tree house to begin with!"

"GUYS!" Number Two yelled. An uneasy silence filled the hall. "Are you going to let me spray the bees or not?"

"Of course! What are you waiting for?!"

"No way! That's _sooo_ mean!"

Number Four and Three glared again at each other when Number Five rounded the corner and stepped into the hall. "What's all the commotion, you guys?"

Number Two held up the **N**.**I**.**T**.**S**. device in the air. "We're trying to decide whether we should spray the bees. What do you think, Number Five?"

Number Five shrugged and fingered her allergy kit. "I dunno, whatever you think is best. Just don't let them near me."

"But Number Five! You can't let Number Two just kill the bees! It's so mean!" Number Three cried in protest.

"I didn't say anything about killing the bees, just don't let them near me, okay?" Five answered and walked over to Number Two. "Nice spray thingy, by the way."

Number Two's face lit up. "Hey! I have an idea! Instead of killing off the bees, why not find a new place for their nest?" "Plus, once they're gone, we can clean out all of the leftover honey comb for ourselves!" He began to intently study the **N**.**I**.**T**.**S**. device. "If I can change the chemical solvent in the spray to a confectionary-based liquid, then it'll attract the bees somewhere else. Remember, the only reason why they're nested in Number Five's wall is because that's where her stash is stored, right?" He began to talk quickly, his voice rising with excitement. "So if I just spray it somewhere else, the bees will be attracted there instead!"

Number Five's face broke into a genuine grin for the first time that day. "You know, Number Two, that just might work."

"What? What might work?" Number Four asked. "I don't get it!" 

"But where are we going to find a confec—uh, that liquid thingy you were talking about?" Number Three tilted her head to the side in thought.

Number Five's grin turned into a tight-lipped frown. "I know what to do," she said, her voice low.

Number Two's eyes widened in realization. "But Number Five, you can't! There's bound to be another way—"

"No," she held up her hand, cutting Number Two off in mid-sentence. "There is not other way." Her eyes blazed with determination. "We're gonna use some of my stash."

"Huh? What the heck are we talking about? Stash?" Number Four clenched his fists and frowned in confusion. "When are we gonna smush those ruddy bees?!"

Number Two continued, ignoring Number Four's oblivious remarks. "Are you sure you want to? I mean we could always use soda or some other candy."

"No, it's the only way." Her eyes narrowed. "If it's _my_ candy they want, it's _my_ candy they'll get."

Number Three nodded in agreement. "Can we have a party afterwards, then?"

"What party? I just wanna know when we're getting rid of that stupid nest!!"

* * *

"So, how did your **S**.**T**.**A**.**R**. reports go, everyone?" Number One asked. Except for himself who was standing to the side, the rest of the group was gathered in the recreation room on the couch.

Number Three waved the dark blue notepad in the air. "Okey-dokey! We've got lots of great notes!" 

"No we didn't," Number Four argued. "I still think you should've written the important stuff, not a load of crud."

"It's not crud—I think putting flower pots on every window sill is a great idea," Number Three responded haughtily.

Number Five handed One the green notebook and clickie pen. "The report's all ready to go, boss. How'd your inspection go?"

Number One sighed and adjusted his glasses. "Not too well, I'm afraid. I missed levels 14 through 22 because my dad roped me into a half hour of sousaphone practice." He flipped his yellow notebook shut and put it off to the other side. "We'll have to input these in the computer database later." He slumped onto the couch in exhaustion and yawned.

"Hey, Number One! Want a snack?" Number Two called and walked into the room with a heaping plate of honeycomb.

"Honeycomb? Where'd that come from?" Number One asked and scratched the back of his head.

Number Two and Five exchanged grins. "Let's just say we've been busy as bees this afternoon, you know?"

Number One shrugged and took a slab of honeycomb off the plate and passed it around the couch. After all, it wasn't every day he had a break, right?

* * *

"There, now that's a sight to see," Mr. Uno declared proudly as he gazed upon his freshly polished sousaphone with pride. He paused and sniffed the outer brim. "Smells good too—almost like candy. Sure was nice of Nigel's friends to lend me that sousaphone scrub spray," he hummed to himself and balanced the sousaphone on his knee, preparing to practice.

He held his mouth up the mouthpiece and drew in a breath when he was suddenly interrupted by a loud buzz. "Huh?" He squinted his eye and looked into the mouthpiece suspiciously. "That's funny..." He drew in another breath and was interrupted by an even louder buzz. Mr. Uno frowned. Was the sousaphone out of tune? Did it need to be repaired?

Only one way to find out...

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, I know it fell a little short on the end, and no offense to poor Mr. Uno, but to be honest, I really couldn't think of anywhere else to stash the bees. But now that this chapter's done, it's time to vote! Which idea do you like best? 

Jill— receiving clothes instead of toys for gifts. Man, I could do some pretty cool stuff with this story line....

Houkanno Yuuhou—getting your tounge stuck on a frozen pole in the winter...ouch. It's never happened to me before, but you've gotta admit, the visual accompaniment is priceless.

Stripified—the tendency of young children to use 'bad' words without knowing the meanings.... that brings back memories of a certain night at the dinner table where my sister made a very inappropriate comment about her pants.... (shudder)

Well, I thought those three would be easiest to utilize in a chapter. But everyone had some really cute suggestions, so don't think I didn't like them. I felt these three were the most common experiences that most people can relate too, so leave me a vote and tell me what you think. It might be a while before I get the next chapter out though, with school and all. Plus, thanks to bucksfan7, Blue Autumn Sky, ahhelga, Numbah34, and Miss Puar for your suggestions, and to all the other amazingly awesome people who took the time to review my chapter. I've never had so many reviews in my life! But don't forget to tell me if you liked this chapter too; I tried to add some fluffy-ness just for you, soraoathkeeper, okay?

**P.S**. To Blue Autumn Sky: I find pink flamingoes to be very inspiring too. Thanksies!


	5. SWEAR

**Disclaimer**: I don't own KND, but I'd rather not. I do own Hugo, well; actually, I don't even own him either. What do I own then?!

**A/N**: Okay, kiddies! The results are in for the next chapter! With a whopping (I hate that word) five votes, is Stripified's idea: the tendency of young children to use 'bad' words without knowing the meanings. Coming in second place, Houkanno Yuuhou's idea: getting your tongue stuck on a frozen pole in the winter, and in third was Jill's idea: receiving clothes instead of toys for gifts. All of these ideas are awesome, and don't worry, I plan on using them in the future!

This chapter, however, presented quite a few complicated twists. How do I write a story about swearing while still maintaining my proud "G" rating? (And I'm serious; I'm very proud about my "G".) So, I chickened out and resorted to the age-old solution of censorship. Sorry, but that's the way things work. I don't think this was my best chapter so far; I liked BEES so, so, much better. Also, I've been praised several times for writing short stories with plots, but I feel like this chapter kind of fell short--it wasn't exactly the big 'tah-dah' I was hoping for. Ah, well. Enough chatter and more reading. Tell me what you think when you're done, okay?

* * *

**S**uspicious

**W**ords

**E**ntice

**A**udacious

**R**ascals

* * *

"Got the goods, Hugo?"

"Like, of course I do. This baby's our key to success."

"Yea, well, be careful with it, we can't let it get into the wrong hands."

"Dude, are you insulting my hands?!"

"Now that you mention it..."

The one by the name of Hugo cast his shadowed partner an angry glare and passed them the lumpy package. "Geez, the least you could do is show a dude some respect. I, like, practically get myself killed makin' this stupid thing for you, and all you do is—"

The shadowed figure let out a snort. "It's kind of hard to give any respect to someone dressed like...well..."

Hugo glanced down at his work uniform: A little plastic nametag tapped to a neon green pinstripe shirt with a large, smiling Rainbow Monkey face on the front. He flushed in embarrassment and took a false swipe at the package, attempting to take it back.

His partner sighed. "Okay, okay. My bad, okay? Just lemme take the package and we'll call it a deal. I need to deliver it to my client as soon as possible. He's got a hot temper, if you know what I mean." The figure snatched the parcel and passed their hand over the brown paper bag cover. "Not exactly high on your security precautions, are you, Hugo?"

Hugo frowned and ran a tanned hand through his sandy-streaked hair. "Give me a break, dude. I was, like, totally rushed and all. But I did tie the string in a little double-knotted bow, just for you."

The figure rolled their eyes from behind the dark black mask and shoved the lumpy package into a sack. "Don't you try sweet-talking me. You're nothing more than a pawn, as far as Father's concerned."

"A pawn?!" Hugo cried and paused. "Can I be the black one? I always get stuck as the white when I play chess."

"Whatever. I'll see you around," the figure sighed and slipped back into the crowd coming into the store. Hugo turned back to the counter and slumped into his seat. The least she could've done was come after rush hour—they always got more customers after lunch. He exasperatedly put his head down on the counter, his nose painfully smacking against the cash register.

"Um...are you okay, Mister?"

Hugo looked up from the register, his nose beginning to bleed. "Oh _yeah_, I'm _great_, my nose is busted on the freakin' register and to top it off—" he cut off in mid complaint and peered over the counter into the wide eyes of the ten year-old girl on the other side. Aw, man. If the boss ever found out he'd been badmouthing to customers, he'd get sacked in a second.

"Are you okay?"

Hugo put on his phoniest grin and hastily wiped the blood from his nose. "Yeah! I'm great. What did you think of my total-tacular nose-bashing performance, little girl?"

The girl cocked her head to the side and folded her floppy green sleeves. "You're funny! Do it again!"

Hugo groaned and adjusted the badge on his uniform. "Look, are you here to buy something, or to look at my far-out handsome face?"

"Your face is ugly."

"..."

"But there is something I want..." the girl grinned mischievously and pointed to a high shelf behind the register."Do you have anymore 'Super Snuggle Snooper Detective' Rainbow Monkeys?'"

Hugo opened his mouth to make a snide reply, when a short, balding man stepped into the store through the staff room door. He leaned up against the door frame and watched intrusively. "Need any help rookie?"

Hugo cringed. As if things couldn't get any worse—he hadn't exactly been on his boss' good side these past few weeks and Hugo had a feeling that if he didn't make this sale he'd be kissing this brief part-time job goodbye. "Ah, now that you mention it, I think we have just _one_ left. Aren't you lucky?!" He replied and began to frantically search behind the counter. He recognized the name; that stupid monkey doll had been selling hot off the shelves. There had to be an extra around somewhere...suddenly his hand fell upon a misshapen brown package. He ripped it open and hastily dusted the Styrofoam packing peanuts off the monkey doll. "Here ya go!" He grinned and handed the girl the 'Super Snuggle Snooper Detective" Rainbow Monkey'.

She studied it over for a moment and then smiled in satisfaction. "Yay! I knew I'd find one here! Thanks, mister!" She handed him the payment—another groan. Why did kids always seem to pay in quarters? He gave her a friendly wave and began to count the coins as she left the store. His boss gave a nod of approval and walked back into the staff room. Hugo let out a sigh of relief and began to clean up the packing peanuts from the package he just opened when he caught a glimpse of paper tucked into the package. He picked it up and read it, his face paling as the horror dawned on him.

"That monkey was....Oh, crap. She's gonna kill me...."

* * *

"Number Fooooouuuuuurrrr!!!!"

"Yo, I think someone's lookin' for ya, Number Four," Five commented from the couch and kicked up her feet on the hassock by the purple couch. Nothing in the world could ever compare to the Friday afternoon feeling, she grinned. Today was one of those bizarrely rare days where Number One decided to take a break.

Number Four pulled his headphones closer around his ears and sunk deeper into the purple couch. "What?" he asked after a moment, the tone of his voice betraying his obvious annoyance. It wasn't often he got to take a break and he was planning on using his time for all it was worth.

Number Three skipped into the room and hopped up onto the couch, sitting herself between Number Four and Number Five's magazine pile. She was clutching a plastic shopping bag close to her face. "Look what I bought today, Number Four! I've been waiting to show you—I haven't even taken it out of the bag yet!"

An unpleasant feeling lurched in Four's stomach. That bag—he'd recognize the logo on it anywhere. Kuki had been shopping at the new "Make a Monkey" store in the mall. (**A/N**: Think "Build a Bear") But for some reason, she hadn't taken much of a liking to actually making her own Rainbow Monkeys; she preferred purchasing pre-made ones instead.

"Gee, lemme guess; is it....a new Rainbow Monkey?" He asked in a sarcastically bored tone, letting lose a staged yawn.

Three clapped her sleeves together in delight. "How'd you know?!"

"I dunno, maybe it's because there's a big _picture_ of one on that bag," Five grinned and looked back at her magazine.

Three's smile widened. "Want me to show you?"

"Not really," Four replied.

Number Three began to fish through the bag and pulled out a large blue Rainbow Monkey dressed in a checkered jacket complete with matching hat and a pipe sticking out of his mouth. Either she hadn't heard Number Four's answer, or was blatantly ignoring him. "See? It's the new 'Super Snuggle Snooper Detective' Rainbow Monkey!"

"'Super Snuggle Detective'? Looks like a Sherlock Holmes impersonator, if ya ask me," Five commented as she watched over the top of her magazine.

Number Three nodded vigorously. "He's one of the newest models! And he talks!"

"TALKS?! That's the last thing we need," Four exclaimed and began to gather up his CD player. "I'm going back to my room. You two can have fun with 'Super Stupid' or whatever that cruddy thing's name is."

"But Number Four!" Three wined and pulled his sleeve. "I didn't even take it out of the bag until now just to show you!"

"Why me?" Four glared, his face becoming pink. "I don't care about those stupid things. You didn't have to wait to show me." An unwelcome fluttering feeling began to creep into his stomach, much to Number Four's disgust. "I don't like Rainbow Monkeys. You didn't have to wait to show me that stupid thing," he commented after a moment, basically repeating what he mentioned earlier.

Number Three's face fell and she slumped back into the sofa cushion. "I thought you'd like it..."

Number Five laughed. "Since when has Numbah Four _ever_ liked Rainbow Monkeys?!"

"Exactly!" Four replied.

Number Three sighed. "Can't you just _look_ at it, at least? Please?"

"..." Number Four sat back down on the sofa and grabbed the stuffed animal away from Three. "Fine, but if anyone asks, it was your idea."

Number Five shook her head from behind her magazine, only her hat was visible. "Man, it _was _her idea, so what are you gettin' so worked up about?"

"Squeeze his stomach, Number Four, so we can hear it talk!" Three cried, her cheerful demeanor quickly returning.

Number Four grumbled something under his breath and gave the Rainbow Monkey a tight squeeze around the waist.

"_Yo, mo' fo'! Put da' shizzle in da' nizzle!"_

"Uh, Numbah Three," Five tipped her hat up to get a better look. "Is it _supposed_ to say that?"

Number Three frowned in confusion. "I don't think so—it's a detective Rainbow Monkey, so he should say...I dunno, detectivey stuff!" She took the doll from Number Four and gave it another squeeze.

"_What the XXXX!? I'm gonna kick yo' XXX!"_

The three stared at "Super Snuggle Snooper Detective" Rainbow Monkey in a mixture of horror and confusion, none daring to make a move. It wasn't until Number Four spoke was the uneasy silence broken.

"Eh....what in the world is an 'XXX'?"

* * *

Number Two looked up from his workshop bench in surprise. "An 'XXX'? No clue. Did you try the dictionary?"

Numbers Four and Three nodded, Three still holding the Rainbow Monkey. "It didn't make any sense," Four replied. "Why would a cruddy Rainbow Monkey want to kick my donkey? I don't even own a donkey."

"Maybe it was a programming error?"

Number Three frowned in thought. "Can you fix it?"

"I don't think so; I really don't like tampering with sound chips. I'm more comfortable with our own 2x4 technology. This was obviously made in a factory and adult programs can get pretty tricky to disassemble," Two answered and scratched the side of his head. "Can I look at it for a minute?"

"Sure," Three responded and handed him the doll. Number Two picked it up by the tail and gave the stomach an apprehensive squeeze.

"_XXX! I can't get enough!"_

"Well....that's certainly a new one," Four uneasily commented after a perturbed pause. "Maybe it's a bilingual Rainbow Monkey model. Does any of this sound Japanese to you, Number Three?"

"I don't think so..." she said uncomfortably and stared down at the doll as though she was holding a scorching hot potato. "Let's go ask Number One. He'll know what to do."

* * *

"There can only be one logical explanation for this—the adults have formulated some type of new code foreign to children."

"A code? I dunno, Number One...it sounded kinda weird," Number Two commented.

Number One tapped the edge of his podium with nervous fingers. "Well, we don't have any other suggestions. Everyone's already gone home and asked their parents about it, so what else can we assume?"

Number Four stared back sulkily. "He's right. I tried askin' my dad about it, but he wouldn't tell me anything. In fact, he said that if I said any of that monkey crud again he'd wash my mouth out with soap!"

Number Two nodded in agreement. "My parents said almost the same thing. They really don't want us repeating any of that stuff."

"Of course they don't—if word gets out that we've acquired access to their new code, there's no telling what havoc it'll wreak on the adult's systems. If they don't want us repeating these phrases, then my own guess is that it's a security-based code of some sort, most likely voice-activated." Number One added and cast an inquisitive stare at "Super Snuggle Snooper Detective" Rainbow Monkey in the center of the meeting room table. The doll stared back at him, its expression seeming almost hostile. "It appears innocent, but in reality..." he trailed off, his sunglasses practically sparkling with inspiration. "A most ingenious plan; too bad we found out about it."

Number Three gazed sadly at the stuffed animal. "This isn't fair. I was really looking forward to owning a "Super Snuggle Snooper—"

"Jeez, call it something shorter, will you?!" Four burst out in frustration. "That stupid thing almost got my mouth soaped!"

Number Five shook her head. "You guys, I don't know about this. I mentioned this to my dad, and he didn't get mad or anything."

"He didn't? Maybe he's not involved then," Two remarked and leaned forward in his seat.

Five shook her head. "I don't think so—he sounded more like he was concerned more than anything. 'I don't wanna hear ya sayin' any o' that stuff, especially if ya don't understand it,'" she declared, her voice imitating her father's.

Number One stood still for a moment in deep thought. "Perhaps we'd pay Mr. Lincoln a little visit, what do you say?"

"I say 'no way!' I don't want anything to do with that cruddy monkey!" Number Four exclaimed and clamped his hands near his mouth. "Have you ever had _your_ mouth washed out with soap, Number One? I bet you haven't—it's something you'll never want to remember, and something you'll never forget."

Number Three gave him a sympathetic look. "I didn't ask my mom, but once I tried to eat soap, so I know what you mean."

"You tried eating...? Never mind," Four sighed and slapped his forehead. "This is pointless. We're not getting anywhere with this."

Number Two suddenly sat up in his seat and eagerly waved his hand in the air. "I've got an idea! How about, instead of _saying_ anything to Mr. Lincoln, why not just bring 'Super Snuggle Snooper Detective' Rainbow Monkey? Maybe he'll know something about it!"

"That does sound like a plausible idea, however, if this truly Rainbow Monkey truly is a database for the adult's new code system we'll be delivering it directly into the enemy's hands!" Number One protested and pounded the podium with his fist.

Number Five cast him a skeptical look. "Are you sayin' my dad is the enemy?"

"N-no...it's just that, well, he's an adult..." Number One replied, looking flustered.

"He's got a good point though, Number Five. We can't be too careful. Besides, there's always the issue of Cree..." Number Two trailed off.

"Either way, we're obviously not getting anything done just sitting here," Five replied. "I say we just ask my dad. He's not as stupid as he acts, really he isn't."

Number One nodded in agreement and hesitantly picked the Rainbow Monkey off the tabletop. "Sounds good to me; what do you say?" he gave the doll a squeeze.

"_XXXX it!! I just stepped in a pile of XXXX!!!"_

"A pile of _what_?" Three asked Number Four. He shrugged. They'd learn soon enough...

* * *

"Hey, it's great to see you kids! Abby hasn't had any friends over lately because of the homework and the after school activities and the chores..."

"It's nice to see you too, Mr. Lincoln, but we have some business to discuss with you," Number One interrupted as he, Two and Four took out their S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R.s from behind their backs. Mr. Lincoln gave the group a nervous look and sat down in a nearby kitchen seat.

"Man, Number One, what do you think you're doing? We're asking him some questions, not givin' him an interrogation!" Number Five reprimanded and took a seat next to her father. "Don't mind 'em, Dad.

The boys sheepishly put away their weapons and sat down at the table next to the plate of cookies and milk. Number One, however, hadn't abandoned his take-charge attitude. He pulled out 'Super Snuggle Snooper Detective' Rainbow Monkey and placed it in the center of the table. "What does this look like to you, Mr. Lincoln?"

Abby's father gave the stuffed animal an amused look, no one noticing the fact that his vest had changed from polka dot to checkerboard print. (**A/N**: Doesn't that annoy you? Has anyone noticed how Mr. Lincoln's vest changes patterns, or is it just me?) He scratched his chin. "Well, it looks like on o' them Rainbow Apes they sell down at the toy store, with the toys and the games and the puzzles—"

"But do you notice anything unusual about this _particular_ Rainbow Monkey; anything familiar?"

Mr. Lincoln gave the doll another stare. "Uh...well, he makes a smashing Sherlock Holmes," he added after a moment's thought.

Number Three sighed and put her head down on the table. "This isn't getting anywhere," she sighed. "Maybe I should take him back to the store and return him for a new one..."

"The store?" Number Four spoke up, his head perking to attention. "That's a great idea! Let's just see if the person who sold you the doll knows anything about it!"

Mr. Lincoln shook his head. "That's would work," he pointed to the wooden pendulum clock on the wall, "but the store closed about twenty minutes ago. I know; I drive by it on the way home from work."

The remainder of Sector V let out a frustrated sigh. It looked as though they had hit another dead end. Just then, Cree sauntered into the kitchen and flipped the cookie jar lid, grabbing a few sugar wafers. "Hey, what's going on?" she asked, scanning the kitchen.

Number Two didn't even look up from the table. "Aw, nothing...we're just visiting."

Cree cast the group a suspicious look. It wasn't everyday they all 'visited' at once. Her eyes fell upon the Rainbow Monkey on the table. "Hey! Where'd you find this?" she cried, the end of her sugar wafer hanging out of her mouth in surprise.

"Why? Do you know anything about it?" Number One asked warily and narrowed his eyes.

Cree chewed down the remainder of her cookie. "Ah...well, you see, I have a friend working down at the toy store, you know, the 'Make a Monkey' place? He told me he had just finished working on a new model and was going to let me look at it."

Mr. Lincoln gave Cree a surprised look. "Aww...I didn't know you still liked playing with stuffed animals, Cree. Maybe I'll give you some new ones for Christmas, with the stuffing and the fur and—"

Number Three leapt out of her seat and grabbed the Rainbow Monkey off the table. "I think your friend sold me the wrong one. Do you know how I can exchange it?"

"Number Three!" One hissed and made a quick gesture to the side. "You can't just hand it over to the enemy! It's evidence!" he whispered.

Number Three shook her head. "This guy's more trouble than he's worth. Besides, if he really is what we think, someone would have recognized it by now."

Cree tilted her head in amusement. "Okay..."

"What's all this fuss? It's just a doll," Mr. Lincoln commented and gave the Rainbow Monkey a squeeze.

"No! Dad, don't!" Number Five cried, nearly knocking over her glass of milk.

"_Hey! You're really XXXXing the XXXX outta me!"_

Mr. Lincoln raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. "So _this_ is where you've been getting all those phrases from, Abigail."

Number Five cringed. Only when she was in trouble did her father call her by her full first name. But it couldn't be that bad, he didn't use her middle name. Not yet, anyways.

He then turned to Cree, his arms crossed in front of his pinstripe vest. "And you, Cree. You said a 'friend' made this? Just what is going on?"

The children watched Cree in interest. It was obvious she was in a tight spot, but even still, she didn't seem the slightest bit phased. "Aw, _man_! What a mistake!" She turned an apologetic look at her father. "You see, Dad, you can put in a recorded voice-chip when you make the stuffed animal. Hugo, my friend, must have mixed up the chips with someone else's!" She snatched up the stuffed animal off the table and opened the front door. "Don't worry, I'll sort this out. He lives just down the street." Cree gave a friendly wave and dashed out the door.

"Well...um....that was, uh...." Number One found himself at a loss for words.

Mr. Lincoln got up from his seat and dusted some cookie crumbs from his plaid vest. "Okay, kids. I'll be seeing you later. I'm going to work on the computer to do some business work, with the spreadsheets and the files and..."

"Yeah, great, Dad." Number Five began to shove her father up the staircase. "We'll be seeing ya later!" She walked back to the table after her father left and scanned her friends' faces. "Okay, now what? If that monkey really was some enemy weapon, what are we gonna do now?"

Number Two finished his glass of milk and wiped his mouth. "You know, I don't think that was an enemy weapon...it was too..."

Number One nodded. "I think we're just going to have to let this one go, for once," he gave an involuntary shudder. "Some things are better left unexplained."

"Yeah," Number Three nodded. "But I still don't know what 'XXX' is."

Number Four broke his cookie in half and gave her a piece. "I don't think we'll ever know. And to be honest, I don't think I want to," he paused, his bangs falling over his face. "_Nothing_, not even the adult's secret code, is worth getting my mouth soaped."

* * *

"Dude, nothing beats a hot shower after a day at work," Hugo sighed and flopped onto the tacky green couch. He grabbed the remote and began to scan through the channels, pausing only to reach for the popcorn bowl on his right. "Let's see what's on..."

"Hugo, are you watching T.V. again? Why not go out and mow the lawn or something?" called his mother from the kitchen.

"Huh? Uh, yeah..."

His mother poked her head around the corner, her long brown hair practically covering her entire face. "Well, if you're going to watch television, the least you can do is watch something educational for a change."

Hugo grumbled under his breath and switched to the Spanish Channel, _"¡Cuidado! La Crema de Afetar" _phased onto the screen in swirly purple letters. "Yea! Spanish Channel soap operas!!" He muted the volume and began to adlib the people's lines as they spoke on the screen. "'No! Ricardo! You can't leave me for your secretary!'" Hugo shrilled in a disturbingly female voice. "'I thought we had something _special_!'" His mother shook her shaggy head and returned to the kitchen.

"But we _do_ have something special, Hugo."

Hugo froze and turned to face the window. "Cree! What...uh...." He cracked a weak grin. "Hi?"

She slipped through the window, careful not to bang her Battle Ready Armor mask on the sill. "You gave me the wrong doll, you fool."

"What doll? I didn't give you a doll!"

"This doll," she replied and handed him the 'Super Snuggle Snooper Detective' Rainbow Monkey.

"Ooooohhh....._that_ doll!"

Cree grabbed him by the shirt colar. "You're lucky I found the right one—do you know who you sold this to?"

Hugo blinked nervously, a bead of sweat sliding across his nose. "Uh....I don't remember..?"

Cree's face closed in on his, her voice a sharp whisper. "A member of the Kids Next Door, you moron!"

His eyes widened. "I had no idea! Honestly! I swear! I thought I gave you the right one, not the decoy!"

"Well, you didn't," she hissed, then straightened her posture, limply dropping Hugo back onto the plastic couch. "But not all is lost; they didn't realize it for what it was."

Hugo let out a sigh of relief, whether it was because of the good news, or simply because Cree let him go, was undetermined. "So am I off the hook?"

Cree grinned mischievously from behind her mask. "Not quite. We're not done with you. This is only beginning, right 'Super Snuggle Snooper Detective' Rainbow Monkey?" she gave the doll a wrenching squeeze in the middle.

"_Holy XXXX!! What the XXXX are you doing to my car, you XXXXXXX?!?"_

The two teenagers exchanged grins. "Dude, I love that stupid thing," Hugo laughed. "Can I make one for myself?"

"Don't count on it."

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, like I said, this was a tricky thing to write, but I think I did okay. I'll leave it up to your imaginations as to what 'Super Snuggle Snooper Detective' Rainbow Monkey said. Now that I look back on this, Mr. Lincoln took the situation surprisingly well. I know if _my_ parents came across a swearing stuffed animal I'd be in a pot of hot water, so to speak. But it's not the end; I think I might add onto this later in the future. Not necessarily a sequel, but you know what I mean. Let me know what you thought; personally, my favorite part was the acronym title, but oh well.

Also, Hugo is a character of my sister's, so if you don't like him, heh, I don't care. Neither do I. Oh, and extra points to anyone who can tell me what the translation of his soap opera is! Thanks for the reviews last time and I hope everyone liked the contest winner!


End file.
